CHAPTER 106: MAIN CAST ASSEMBLED

"What about your engagement with Leon then?" Marcus asked, voice casual, but the question hung in the air with a sharp edge.

"Planning to break it?"

Victoria let out a light laugh, brushing her hair back as if dismissing a bothersome breeze. "Don’t worry about it," she said, waving the thought off with an elegant flick of her hand. "It isn’t locked."

Marcus only smiled, a wry curl at the corner of his lips. "If you say so."

They sat in a quiet lull, morning sun slipping lazily through the tall windows. The air was crisp, too still for a school day.

"We have one hour left until classes start," Victoria noted, glancing out the window. Her gaze lingered for a moment. Outside, only a sparse number of students wandered the courtyard—fewer than expected.

A flicker of thought crossed her face. "I think I’m forgetting something."

"Yeah..." a third voice chimed in, breaking the moment.

It was Dwayne, stepping into the room with Maria right behind him. Maria offered Victoria a lazy wave, her usual warmth present despite the early hour.

"There are still quite a lot of students stuck with the professor’s test," Maria said with a short chuckle. "I’m not even sure if classes will continue today."

Victoria tilted her head, realization dawning in her eyes. "You make a valid point..."

"That’s what I forgot," she muttered to herself.

Marcus raised a hand, the gears in his mind already turning. "But what about our class? How many passed?"

Dwayne shrugged and strolled over, casually slapping a hand on Marcus’ shoulder before leaning in like they were lifelong friends.

No regard for personal space.

"Beats me," Dwayne said, stretching. "All I know is that only four pairs made it out."

Marcus furrowed his brows. "Four?"

"Yeah," Dwayne nodded mid-yawn, fatigue pulling at his voice. The toll of waking up early after surviving that twisted trial was clearly hitting him. "Me and Maria, Victoria and the prince, and you and Cynthia."

He paused, scratching the back of his neck. "As for the last pair? I’ve got no idea. Probably some randoms."

All the while, Dwayne remained latched onto Marcus’ shoulder, slowly rocking back and forth just to be annoying.

"Do you really have to do this?" Marcus asked, irritation creeping into his smirk.

"Come on, we’re pals," Dwayne grinned.

Marcus shot him a side glance. "Since when?"

Victoria sighed from her seat, rising to her feet as if to regain some authority in the room. "So basically, in summary, ninety percent of the student body isn’t present today?"

"Yes, you are correct," came a calm, princely voice from the doorway.

Leon entered the room with the practiced poise of someone who was used to having every eye on him, even when no one was watching. He placed his bag neatly on his desk in one fluid motion, as if choreographed.

Marcus chuckled under his breath, looking around at the strange cast slowly gathering in one place.

’What is this? Why are all the main characters forming inside this room?’

As if on cue, another figure stepped through the door.

Cynthia.

Her once-glowing ascended attire was now replaced by the crisp, tailored lines of the academy’s standard uniform. Even toned down, she carried a kind of presence that was hard to ignore.

"What’s going on?" she asked, her brow slightly furrowed as she glanced at the half-empty classroom. "Why is the school near empty?"

"Trearch," Marcus replied dryly, one word summing it all up. The test. The challenge. The chaos.

And just like that, the room held the weight of something... different.

The main cast—each with their quirks, confusion, and unspoken bonds—had all arrived. A prince, a delinquent, a mystery girl, a heroine, a villainess, and a self-aware protagonist who still wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be the lead or the narrator.

Boredom hung in the air. So did tension.

Some romantic. Some chaotic. Some impossible to define.

And as the sunlight carved long golden stripes across the desks, one question began to form in all of them at once:

’What now?’

Leon raised an eyebrow at the sight of Marcus and Dwayne, the two far too comfortable in each other’s space. A subtle smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed loosely.

"Figures you two became close," he muttered, unable to hide the amusement in his tone.

Marcus and Dwayne both turned their heads slowly toward him, matching expressions of deadpan boredom plastered across their faces. Neither was particularly thrilled to entertain the prince.

"Sure, Prince Charming," they said in eerie unison, voices flat and synchronized like a well-rehearsed gag.

Marcus cracked up first, clapping Dwayne on the back. "You know what? I think we’re gonna get along just fine."

Dwayne looked at him like he had grown an extra head, still half-lounging against the desk.

"Really? That’s what you got from that exchange?" he asked, exasperated.

Leon rolled his eyes and exhaled loudly, shifting his weight so his shoulder pressed against the wall. One foot casually tapped against the stone surface in a slow, rhythmic beat. The faint sound echoed in the mostly empty classroom.

"So it’s only us six here in 1-A?" he asked aloud, scanning the room with a dry gaze.

"You got eyes, dumbass. Use them," Dwayne replied without missing a beat, voice casual but edged.

Leon’s tapping stopped.

His eyes narrowed.

"One more word from you," he said coldly, voice sharp like a blade just barely unsheathed, "and I’ll cook you alive."

The threat wasn’t shouted. It didn’t need to be. It was the kind of statement that carried weight just by being spoken.

Cynthia sighed, brushing her bangs from her eyes as she crossed her arms. "So this is going to be the usual class dynamic then?" she asked dryly.

The tension between the three boys seemed to stretch, ready to snap or settle—no one was sure which.

Then, right on cue, the classroom door creaked open with agonizing slowness.

A figure entered, and the group turned to look.

Professor Oswald.

The man looked like he hadn’t slept in days—deep bags under his eyes, his robe slightly wrinkled, and his usual scowl even deeper than normal. Age tugged at his features, but exhaustion was what truly defined his expression now.

"Why am I the one assigned to break the news to students..." he muttered to no one in particular, trudging into the room like a man halfway through his last straw.

All six students immediately turned their full attention toward him, momentarily united in confusion.

"...You’re all dismissed for the day," he said, rubbing his temples.

Then he turned on his heel and walked out without waiting for questions or protests.

And as he exited, they heard the faintest grumble under his breath—just before the door clicked shut behind him.

"Already busy as is... and that bastard had to give me more work..."

A brief, stunned silence fell across the room.

The six of them—supposedly the elite of Class 1-A—just stood there, blinking at the now-empty doorway.

Then, slowly, eyes turned toward each other, one by one.

A shrug here. A raised eyebrow there. No answers.

No direction.

Only one shared, inevitable thought surfacing again in all their minds, almost like a system notification that never quite appeared:

’What now?’